Still Waters are not Empty
by GothicCheshire
Summary: The helmet was removed, the once fearsome cowl revealed to be broken and crumbling. As they watched the cowl itself was removed, revealing eyes that were filled with something that had been fought against for as long as they had known him. Insanity.
1. Saving

_I don't know what's gotten into me. The idea is crazy, the characters many and varied, and the possibility so far out there it hasn't been touched yet. Anywhere. Yet, naturally this has never stopped me before and it won't now. Few things to keep in mind. This is based on the cartoon versions of these characters, minus a certain Bat. I'm extremely fond of his Batman Begins/Dark Knight past, if nothing else, so certain details will in fact come from that movie, but the appearance and voice will remain the same as the cartoons. So...aside from a few details you won't even notice. Please do not hesitate to review to inform me of anything that might need work, these characters are _exceedingly_ new for me, as is the world itself, so please do be gentle. Naturally, due to certain events and time differences, a certain level of suspension of disbelief is necessary, which should be above and beyond obvious, but still. Also, the possibility of a story that focuses precisely on what happens to one character in particular will be entertained with all seriousness. It will take a while though, and it is rather unlikely to be posted soon, but it's a possibility.  
><em>

_I own neither the Justice League, nor BioShock, which I am sure all of you are _extremely_ surprised by (be blinded by the sarcasm), and this will be a gen fic. My apologies for those who wish otherwise._  
>...<p>

The lights were off, the room encasing its occupant in darkness. But one light still shone, a yellow light, piercing in its intensity that bored into the darkness as it focused on a window in front of him, a window that could not be seen through by the one inside. The people on the other side of the glass had no such problem and stared at it, mouths shut, eyes intent. Their attempts to be stoic failed slowly but surely as the one they were staring at slowly stood up, single glowing glass eye looking towards the ground, sweeping every inch of the room it was in before focusing on all of the walls, looking for just one sign of something that would never come. The moaning call that reverberated through the deck under their feet was enough to break them.

"Is that all he does? Just…just sits there until he can't stand it and has to look for them?"

"Yes. It is all he is allowed to do. It is all the programming allows him to do."

"_Programming_…you say that as though he's a computer."

"And he is not, yes, but those…drugs made him so." The hesitation did not imply aversion at the thought of drugs, but more the inability to truly name the chemicals that had been used.

"Can we get him back?"

Silence was the only answer, but it carried a weight in it that was crushing. Once proud backs bent, heads lowering slightly as the realization tore through them that they might finally have lost him. They stared at the thing in front of them.

The silence was finally broken.

"But I will not stop trying. I will find a way."

And the words brought hope.

The sound of a mournful call that echoed deep within them as the thing inside of the room slumped down into its usual corner sent the hope away.

…

"_Three children. Three children were captured and they were taken." _The voice was dark, heavy with the weight of what the owner was talking about. "_Add these three to the others, and we have a grand total of thirty. Thirty little girls, all taken from their homes, by something that shouldn't exist, to a place that also shouldn't exist, and this is the reason that no one knows. _

"_It took me five weeks to figure out where and how. Five weeks. They were good. They were almost too good, but I finally got them. They were in the ocean. Now I know exactly where, __63° 2' North, 29° 55' West_ _. __I don't expect for this to take long, if only for the fact that I can't let it take long. There are thirty little girls in here, thirty children that are away from their homes and the possibility that some may have been there for longer…" _The voice struggled a bit to keep it's gruff tone, the listeners gathered there focused on other things, remaining quiet as the pause finally broke to two words.

"_Batman out."_

…..

"How many of those do we have?" The normally excited and optimistic voice was subdued, red mask pulled back to reveal a youthful face that was pinched with worry. Red hair was tussled by a hand that ran through it as he leaned back in his chair, blue eyes focused on another man sitting at the table.

"Enough to get the full story." Equally blue eyes refused to meet the ones of Wally West, otherwise known as the fastest man alive, the Flash. Six out of the original seven were gathered there, and the one that were missing…Clark Kent didn't really want to think of.

"How many are from Bats?"

"…Just that one…"

"Then…who made the rest of these?"

Clark exchanged glances with the woman on his right, blue eyes locking with his. The beautiful face of an Amazon that was pinched in an undeniable form of distress and worry turned down to focus on the audio chips. She would have normally kept up the stare, kept up the challenge, but Diana Prince, Wonder Woman herself, did not feel like it. She ignored the black hair that fell into her face as her head tilted down, finally brushing it back with a hand so she could remove her tiara. The Princess of the Amazons felt cold.

Shayera, Hawk Girl, fierce brown eyes paired with even fiercer expression, her mask removed, on the other hand, looked ready to bust someone's skull in. Her fingers tightened around her mace, sparks crackling from it as her anger grew. Flash was the only one that didn't know. The thought was as crippling as it was depressing. Out of the original seven, he was the only one that didn't know, and as she looked up at John, the tall brown-skinned man with piercingly bright green eyes of an unnatural shade, she knew that none of them were going to enjoy bringing him to full understanding. She almost wished that he had been able to come, if only to spare him from what was coming.

J'onn Jones remained quiet, orange eyes distant, thoughts locked on another man, someone who was close to the reason they had gathered. Someone who dropped what he was doing and left without a second's hesitation. The green-skinned Martian focused on the meeting at hand again, his eyes locking with Clark's for just that one moment to let him know what he had done. The Kryptonian nodded once, and turned his attention back to Flash.

"You'll find out."  
>….<p>

The door that had been keeping the thing separate from the rest of them opened slowly. It didn't move at first, remaining in its spot against the wall, ignoring the voice that called for it to come out. The man standing there, his suit smartly pressed and groomed, hair and mustache impeccably trimmed, looked nothing like what should have been there, standing before what looked like a scrapped together bulky and heavy old-fashioned diving suit. The rest were gathered behind him, seven only temporarily as their eyes remained locked on the sharply dressed man before them.

"I don't think it's going to work."

"We don't know that, we have to try." Clark's voice was tense, his eyes locked on what lay beyond the man standing there.

Slowly, ever so slowly the thing's giant metal covered head slowly tilted up, focusing its attention on the one in front of him, bathing him in yellow light. The heroes behind him tensed, ready to defend him to their last, but their expressions spoke of something like pain, pain that they even needed to consider it. The man did not tense, did not look worried at all that the behemoth was staring at him, something that belied the fact that he had to have been somewhere in his late forties to fifties.

Finally, it stood up, and Alfred Pennyworth stood his ground, looking up at the thing before him and softly saying, "Do you know who I am, Master Bruce?"

…..

"_Many years ago under the sea, the log of Xavier Blake." _The voice that crackled from the speakers was wistful, possessing the giddy sort of excitement of one who had all his dreams come true. The way he had said it also hinted at that dreamlike quality. The man was intoxicated off of his location. "_This is excellent. Absolutely excellent. I finally have it, the perfect test subject, the perfect choice for the next line of power. It's wonderful; in fact, it's so good that I almost want to create something special just for you. You see, you are going to make me a very rich man, and not only that, you are going to help me bring this place back to glory. Doesn't that make you excited?" _There was no answer, Blake taking a moment to see if his captive would say something, and finally giving up.

"_Well, even if you don't talk, I believe I shall. Do you know anything about Rapture, Batman? No? Good. I have been wanting to tell someone about my discoveries for ages, almost as soon as I began trying to rebuild it. You seem like the perfect one to listen as well as to test. This city is Rapture, built by Andrew Ryan as a way to create a society free from any constraints to labor, art, science, a society that was built on the fundamentals of capitalism at its finest, which turned out to be its worst._

"_This city, this society was the creation of a visionary. But it was not a regular society. These people had powers, powers that were comparable to the ones your…colleagues possess._ _Yet something happened, something that destroyed their society and their lives. Now, naturally I can't sell such a thing if it will cause harm to people." _In that moment, Flash was certain that Batman was just as shocked as he was._ "Yes, you heard that right, I do not wish to harm anyone."_

"_Then explain those children you took." _The Bat broke his silence.

"_Ah, yes, them…they are a necessary sacrifice for the betterment of mankind."_

"_They are _children_."_

"_I don't truly expect for you to understand. Yet those that lived here before understood, they gave their children up willingly. They were the keys to unlocking unlimited possibilities. They gave them the power to do so many things. And you get to feel what it must have been like."_

"…_What?" _It was a question that Flash supported wholeheartedly.

"_Yes, the power of the gods, I'm going to give it to you, but not yet. First…first we need to give the young ones their protector. You should be glad; I'm going to let you do what you normally do. In fact, I'm not even going to remove your mask, so you don't have to worry about that." _It was then that he began to hear it, ringing slightly after each syllable, something that he usually heard when dealing with one of Batman's villains._ "Just…enjoy the experience. If you can…" _

Insanity.

….

They worked with him for days, J'onn Jones doing something he had sworn never to do, enter the mind of the Batman. Fully and completely, trying desperately to bring him back from the abyss he had sank to. It was not working, whether it was the amount of brainwashing that had been imposed, or merely the fact that Bruce was fighting him every step of the way, or even a combination of the two, J'onn was making little progress. But they were making some.

Alfred was a nearly constant presence, remaining as close to the encased man as he could. They had given him the room Bruce would use when he slept on the watchtower. Alfred had thanked them politely, but he had used it rarely. Flash was almost certain he was doing whatever he could to prove that he was just as nocturnally inclined as the one he was trying to help. It was possible that he was even more so. But they rather doubted it.

They had asked if he would be bringing the rest of the Bat Family, but Alfred had been surprisingly hesitant to call them. When asked why, the man had sighed, and merely responded by indicating the spot where Bruce stood, encased in his metal and mesh prison, yellow light glowing balefully. There were few moments that they had felt so hopeless. The doctors were working around the clock; desperately using whatever information had been given to them. There was one thing that they agreed they could do, one thing that the rest were hesitant to do.

Repair Bruce's vocal chords. The reason for their hesitation was simple if not horrible. They didn't know what he would say. Aquaman had come during the first week they tried to help; he had not come back since, it was the only time that they had truly suspected that Bruce was actually speaking through those sounds. They were hesitant to know what he was saying, but it was getting to the point where they believed that it would be better to know than to do nothing. It was with this decision in mind that they knew that they had to do it.

They were going to fix his voice.

…

_"I worked hard on this. Well, not the actual design, that has not been changed, but everything else I have poured my heart and my soul in. I've fixed it, sanitized it, everything you see here I have rebuilt. With…a little help. I'm certain you've seen them. The Big Daddies." _

"Hold up," Flash's two word interruption caused them to pause the tape, and look over at him in anticipation. "'Big Daddies'? Is…is that what he turned him into? A _Big Daddy_?"

"Yes…"

Flash hesitated for a moment, the look on his face dancing between outright hysteria and horror. "Really? That's…that's kinda…wow…"

"The anti-thesis of what we know as Batman, right?"

"Yeah, I'd go with that."

"If I may be so bold, sir, I believe that none of you, with the possible exception of two, truly know Batman." Wally jerked around, mouth falling open at the sight of a tall, prim, elderly gentleman, who had somehow managed to get into the room without him even noticing. The British accent was almost comical. Alfred Pennyworth. "But I believe we were in the middle of learning what precisely Master Wayne was put through."

"Right."

_"Do not let their names fool you; they protect the Little Sisters, and while they will give their lives to protect their little charges, they are deadly to anyone else. I believe the job would be fitting, to say nothing of your actual family. Well…possible family. No one is sure if those sidekicks of yours is related to you or not, are they? But no matter, we have a lot of things to do, and this is as good a place to start as any." _Not for the first time, Flash found himself wishing desperately that there was visual to accompany the dialogue.

_"Please don't worry, I've sanitized it, so there is little chance for infection, and have a very good idea of how it is used. It won't kill you. Although…it is rather possible that you will have to deal with some rather severe discomfort, however judging from how little you use it, the loss of your voice should not cause you any trouble. Now, hold still."_

The whir of a machine started the sound of it ominous in its increasing drone. _"Oh, I must ask you not to scream…I believe that it will only increase the discomfort caused by this…wonderful device. So please, relax."_

What began sent a shiver down Flash's spine, his eyes widening as the garbled sound of rotating blades met flesh. But there was something odd about it, something that led to him wondering what precisely it was that was going on. And then there was another sound. This sound was something that terrified him, something that made him swallow convulsively. The sound of strangled and gurgling screaming.

….

_So yeah...first chapter, more will be up reasonably shortly...fear it._


	2. Batman

_Yet another update...man alive am I spoiling you people. Or...I would be if this story was read by anyone. All I'm getting is this one big void of nothing. People, please, have a heart. I'm writing one giant crazy monster, the least you could do is let me know if it's decent. Or, you know, absolutely horrible, but hey...whichever works. Oh, and I would apologize for the title change, but I realized this one worked better than the other. _

...

"We need to get him out of that suit." Superman's statement was met by silence, the rest of them contemplating how they could possibly do so. John finally spoke up.

"But…how? He doesn't let any of us get close, why would he do so now? Especially when what we're doing could seem like a threat…" John asked, spreading his arms to the sides. "And…I don't know about you guys, but I really don't want to hurt him… We can't gas him, the filter he's currently breathing through will get rid of it. We can't do much of anything…"

"That is not entirely true." J'onn turned around from where he had been staring out at the stars, and regarded them all evenly. "I have been working with him, and I believe that I could possibly influence him enough to get him to remove his helmet on his own. We may need to help with the rest, but the helmet should not be a problem."

"Are you sure, J'onn?" Superman did not need to state what would happen if he was wrong.

"I am as certain as I can be."

"Alright then, let's do it."

They found him where he usually was, curled as much as he was able in the corner. J'onn slowly walked forward, careful to not make any sudden movements. He did not wish to see what happened should Bruce be startled, especially when his right hand was so desperately clinging to the drill that it was encased in. The yellow light focused on J'onn, the look steady, although everything about him spoke of tenseness and wariness. J'onn slowly crouched down, looking at the man before him steadily. Alfred waited quietly, eyes focused on the man who was as close to a son as he had, hoping with everything in him that something could be done.

"Stand up." Two words and they had never been as tense as they were right now, J'onn's eyes flaring red, the power placed into those words washing over them in a wave that made them wish to stand as well.

Slowly, creakingly, fighting all the way, Bruce stood, looking down at the one standing before him. They felt relief rush through them as he did no more, the drill still idle at his side. It was going to work.

"Remove your helmet."

There was a pause, fingers clenching and unclenching, and then slowly, steadily, both hands reached up. They felt themselves tensing, biting lips in some cases, and hands fisting in others. Finally they grasped either side of it, the drill falling back along the joints near his elbow. There was a click, a pressurized hiss, and then the helmet was slowly peeled up. They slowly relaxed as it was lifted further up, only to gasp at the sight of what was under the helmet.

The cowl was tattered, the ears torn, one of them completely off while the other hung at an angle. The flesh underneath was more pale than they had thought possible, strange blotches of skin at the corner of his mouth lending a splash of color where it really shouldn't be. But their eyes focused on one thing in particular. From where the cape had been ripped away, leaving his neck bare, black scarring was revealed, trailing from just under his jaw down his throat.

As they watched the cowl was slowly removed by a shaking hand, revealing glazed wide eyes shining with the madness that their owner had fought against with all he had. His hair was wild; it even seemed to be falling out in some places. There was nothing left of the man he had been, nothing left of Bruce Wayne.

"Hera, help us…"

….

"_Now, the real fun can begin. I am going to break you, Batman. I just thought you should know. I also do apologize, I am aware that a mind like yours is a rare thing, but I can't let you leave without impressing upon you the majesty that is Rapture. It's a beautiful thing and I truly cannot wait to see the Little Sisters reactions to you. I believe you might enjoy that as well._

"_That said, I believe we should discuss those powers we talked about. Or…rather, I talked about. You really didn't talk much, did you? Now you really can't. Not…truly, anyway… Ah well, to business." _There was the sound of hands clapping together that was followed by glass clicking together. _"These are known as plasmids. I hasten to reassure you that each of these needles are sterilized, once again, I don't wish to cause your death. Pain is quite another matter, although, truly…I don't believe you're resistant to pain all that much. You almost seem to seek it out. Why else would an ordinary human do what you do?_

"_You know what; I almost wish you had your voice, if only to hear the answer to that question. I almost wonder if you truly know the answer to that yourself, but no matter, back to the matter at hand. Plasmids were one of the cornerstones of what Rapture created, along with a discovery. A type of slug that would produce a substance known as ADAM. _

"_This ADAM produces unstable stem cells. They will replace your normal cells steadily and as they do so repair any damaged cells you may have. Judging by your expression I believe you've found what can go wrong with this process. It is, well, it was considered to be like a very benign type of cancer. But this instability eventually proved to be their downfall; the continued use of the drug created a type of dependency on it that caused extreme harm to those that took too much. Yet as the drug was used you merely wanted more causing a vicious cycle. _

"_In other words, an addiction. Yes, if my calculations are wrong…you could very well become addicted. I'm sure you appreciate the irony of the Batman being plagued with the very same problem that most of his victims have…" _

"Okay, is anyone else suffering from the urge to punch this guy?" Flash interrupted suddenly, green eyes narrowed.

"It won't do you any good." Superman was quiet, arms folded across his chest as he responded.

"Why?"

"He's already dead."

"What?" They understood the reason for his shock, for his fear. They had seen the reality of the Justice Lords just as they had, they knew they were capable of it, but that did little to disguise the feeling of hurt at the idea that they would have fallen to the urge to kill. They had promised.

"He saw us…he panicked. Before we had a chance to help him he injected himself with something. We never had a chance. The poison was too quick. But before he died…" Superman trailed off, eyes closing as his arms tightened to his chest, protection. "Before he died he looked surprised. He hadn't been expecting death."

"…Oh God…"

…..

They were able to do it. It took them longer than they had hoped, and they were almost shocked that it had finally worked, but they had repaired his vocal chords. The doctors they had called in, the Batman's face kept hidden behind a fresh cowl the entire time, sworn to secrecy and the knowledge that the city that the man protected would have been taken over kept them silent. Kept them focused and driven. The knowledge that you were working on men who saved millions of lives would do that.

Bruce Wayne could now speak, and as they waited for the drugs to wear off and for him to wake, they knew they would probably never be prepared for what he would have to say. That didn't stop them from waiting at the man's bedside until he finally woke up. At least, it didn't stop Alfred, and the man was almost as sneaky as his ward, the ones helping his master never realizing his presence. One learned how to disappear when one made a habit of serving others. The rest of the superheroes were called regularly. There was never a true moment for them to spare. It didn't help that Superman was working on protecting both Gotham and Metropolis, doing a favor for a man who truly would not be happy when he was himself. He had always been territorial; they figured it would only be worse when he got better.

Alfred was quietly dozing in the chair next to the bed, his knowledge of the schedules of those who would check on his ward giving him freedom. The wires attached to arms and chest, tracing pulse, nourishing standing out against too pale flesh, barely standing out against white blankets. A sudden change in the steady beating of a pulse made Alfred's eyes flicker open, brown eyes meeting blue in a moment that would have caused other men to fall backwards in shock. As it was, the man was British, and reactions of fear had been all but removed from him ever since Bruce had come back from Tibet and started his crusade.

That did not mean that Alfred was totally prepared.

"Master Bruce, do you understand me?" His voice was a whisper, as always fully aware of what may happen should the doctors hear. Alfred watched the bruised throat work quietly, fingers tightening on the edge of the chair as he stared at the man who leaned forward slightly. Finally, Bruce opened his mouth and rasped a quiet,

"Yes."

….

"_Shall we begin then? Very well." _Xavier hummed to himself slightly the clicking of glass coming together gently an eerie backdrop._ "Ah, here we are, I believe you will like this one. It is something that will give you the ability to save, yet again. If you can. The conditioning you've been receiving has gone quite well, has it not? You're barely able to focus on my voice; I can see your attention waning, even with that cowl. You're worried about the Sisters. _

"_Don't worry; with this…with this you can easily protect them. In fact, you can save them. That is…if their screams of fright when they realize where they are don't cause you more harm. I leave it to your discretion." _And then, there was the sound of a needle being forced through flesh, and a sound of pain from the voice that had been forced onto the Bat. A moment later and a soft hum of interest split the silence again. _"Interesting…very interesting. Can you feel it? The power racing through your veins? Well…I suppose I shall wait. Let's see what you do. I do hope the conditioning works. It would be a shame to lose all of them at once."_

The recording ended, Wally sinking back into his seat as he looked at the table, ignoring Clark as he placed a new chip into the player. There were too many more to go for his taste. He knew that the rest of them felt the same. Green eyes turned to Alfred quietly; examining the bent form of someone who had to be the closest to a father Bruce had had in a long time. Ever since he was _eight_. The thought churned his stomach, compounded with everything else. There was also hunger.

He gritted his teeth slightly but there was no help for it. It had been too long since his last meal, and with a hyper metabolism that was not something he could afford to do. "I…I'm going to get something to eat. Does anyone else want anything?" His voice was quiet, almost ashamed, but two brown eyes focused on him for a moment before Alfred stood up.

"If I could have access to the kitchen, I believe I would be able to prepare something."

"You…you don't have to."

"No, but I would prefer to do something, sir."

Clark gave a brief nod, Wally unable to say anything as the man left, following J'onn as the Martian led the way. They could all do with a break.

The group lazed around the table, all in their own thoughts, thankful that it was as quiet on Earth as it was in space. At least for once. J'onn returned at one point, no one was quite sure when, but Wally asked where Alfred was quietly and the Martian gave a slight smile.

"He kicked me out of the kitchen."

The thought made Flash snort weakly, someone as small and unintimidating as Alfred kicking someone as big and alien as J'onn out of anything was funny. It wasn't long before the butler returned, somehow managing to open the door while balancing two trays of food. One he placed in front of Wally and the other he placed in the middle of the table. He left once more and came back with a pot and several glasses which he poured steaming hot liquid into quietly before passing out.

"Tea?" John asked, the ex-marine turned Green Lantern, examining it quietly.

He paused in the motions, blinking once before straightening. "You will have to forgive me, it was one of the methods used to…comfort Master Wayne."

John didn't say anything else and simply took a cup, sipping it quietly. His surprise was obvious, and he looked down at the cup with surprise then back up at the butler.

"Not what you expected, sir?"

"It's…actually rather good."

"Of course it is, sir. I'm British." The slight humor in the statement caused a few signs of amusement, some of them stronger than others.

"Well, remind me to ask you how to make it like this."

"I'm afraid it is a family secret, sir, but I am thankful that you enjoy it."

"Eh…good enough."

More silence.

They were beginning to hate silence.

…..

"How do you feel?" The question wasn't one with an obvious answer, truly, Alfred didn't expect for there to be a true answer, or for Bruce to answer anyway. The tears that welled up were not hidden, nor were they truly noticed. He hadn't thought he would ever be able to hear the voice of the man he thought of as his son again.

"Thirsty." The voice was a rasp, gargled and twisted, but it was there, and Alfred hurried to get him a glass of water, giving it to him carefully and helping him sip it. Bruce was too weak to do it on his own, and the realization of that hurt. The fact that he was letting him help said more than he wanted it to. "Thank you."

"How else do you feel, sir?"

"Everything aches…and my head… Alfred, I can _hear_ them."

"Hear who, Master Bruce?" His expression reflected the worry that was slowly taking him over, wondering at what state his master was truly in.

"The children…they need my help."

"You are in no condition to help anyone, sir. The League is looking for them, Aquaman in particular, leaving his kingdom to do so, if you do not mind me adding." Alfred raised an eyebrow as Bruce slowly pushed himself upright, eyes narrowing against pain. "Sir, I do not believe now is a good time to stand, let alone do anything else."

"I have to. They won't stop calling, I can't leave them. I can't…" Arms ripped at wires, wires ripped skin, blood flowing as Alfred stood up hurriedly, yelling for Superman as he pushed his master back onto the bed.

"Sir, please!"

His only answer was violence, the body of the one who was his son writhing, desperately trying to get up, to get free. It was not long before the rest of the team arrived and strapped him down, pumping him full of sedatives. It took longer than it should have for him to finally stop struggling, and when he finally did, J'onn knew that he would need to begin working on the mind of the bat in earnest.

There was more wrong with him than they had originally suspected.


	3. Is

_I desperately apologize for the wait on this. I'm almost positive most of you thought I had given up on this. I had for a while, it was killing me. But now, I finally managed to update. I do hope that you enjoy it. Really really sorry for how long it took. _

_...  
><em>

_"The Subject is reacting well…the sisters are gravitating to him more every day. It won't be long until I can begin to place him in the suit and proceed to inject him with whatever I want. He won't have the ability to think of using it against me. He'll be too busy protecting the sisters, and what strange things he'll be protecting them from. Be that as it may…it won't be long, soon I can add the finishing touches, and I will finally be able to work on getting these mass produced. The profit they'll make and the knowledge I'll gain… I truly can't wait. But back to the Subject._

_"He has taken to following them everywhere. He'll usher them from place to place, escort them to their little tunnels, destroy anything that gets in his way…it's really rather fascinating. You never truly realize how absolutely deadly he is until you watch him in action against those that won't let him get by with simply incapacitating them. He must truly kill or be killed, or rather, kill or let the sisters be killed so their ADAM can be harvested."  
><em>  
>"Wait…so he…" Flash's answer was the slow nodding of heads, nothing but grief in their expressions.<p>

_"I don't believe he enjoys his current plight though, especially the slaughter he will sometimes cause. I've tracked him as he wanders aimlessly down the corridors, letting out cries that can only be described as heartbroken and absolutely disillusioned. It's quite troubling really…I have done my best to impress upon him the fact that they are no longer human. They lost that aspect of themselves a long time ago, they are now merely flesh and instinct, whatever it was that made them human gone. He still can't stand killing them though."  
><em>  
>"Oh…Bats…"<p>

_"He wants nothing more than to protect the children in ways that doesn't mean he breaks his rule. Unfortunately for him…that rule can no more exist in Rapture than morality can._

_"Morality here is useless, just as it has always been. The children are taken, used, and shall eventually be discarded. It almost breaks my heart that I cannot let them live past puberty, but the changes to their bodies wreaks havoc on the slug that they contain, and they will stop at nothing to kill anyone who gets in their way. Yet when has that ever stopped me? They said Rapture wasn't real, that I was mad, but I suppose I've proven them wrong._

_"And they will pay for everything that they have done to me."_

"I hate this guy. I really truly hate this guy. I want nothing more than to hunt him down and punch his face in, dead or not, how the hell can he do this to anyone? He kept talking about a profit, but he doesn't care about the money… He…he broke Batman, how the hell could he have broken Batman?"

"Unfortunately that is not quite correct, sir. Batman, as a symbol, cannot be broken. However, Bruce Wayne, as a man, can. It is Bruce Wayne that has been destroyed, sir, and Bruce Wayne that must be fixed. However…I am loath to admit that Bruce Wayne has not been whole since he was eight years old. The goal shall have to be to cut the scar to shape, to make it manageable. Hoping for anything more is foolish." Alfred spoke quietly, looking to the ground with his hands clasped in his lap. He was trying to convince himself as much as them it seemed, and the realization that this had to have been something he told himself often sent a rush of sympathy for him.

Superman rested a hand on the older man's shoulder gently, eyebrows pinching together in the slightest hint of apology. "He's honestly very lucky to have someone like you to look after him."

"I believe he would agree with you, sir."

"Do you ever get a break in that job?" Flash asked suddenly, raising an eyebrow.

"He gives me Father's Day off religiously."

It was such a simple honest statement without pause or care that they can't help but promise silently that they were going to give this man back his son. No matter what it took from them, they would fix Bruce Wayne, and in turn, give him back to his father.

…..

The doctors worked tirelessly to repair Bruce's body, his mask remaining on even as they removed the rest of his costume piece by piece. Now that he had woken up and was out of the danger zone they could begin work in earnest. They found that as cancer-like as the cells were, they found that they could be stopped and even removed. The drug they had produced worked as well as they could hope. The physical deformities were also worked on, slowly managing to heal almost every physical ailment they could.

That was when the other symptoms started. Withdrawal symptoms.

It took them a while to process the fact that the man in front of them that had beaten off more things than they could truly imagine was actually hooked on something. Trembling, shakes, delusions, the list of symptoms continued, and often lasted long into the night. He no longer slept unless he was sedated, and the constant use of drugs was something they were beginning to truly worry about.

They did not know how some of the drugs would react to his current condition and were often concerned that it would make things worse. So far it hadn't, but they figured it was only a matter of time. The team that had come to be a family always made sure to leave him with someone. He had nightmares when he was alone, nightmares that left him shaky and paranoid.

Wally would talk and joke and laugh and offer to get him something to eat. The speedster was a near constant presence, unable to really leave him alone unless his city was in danger or he himself needed to be dragged away to sleep.

Shayera didn't say much, didn't really feel like she needed to. She just sat beside his bed and read, sometimes discussing books she enjoyed with him. The knowledge that she liked to read was something that surprised a few members of the league. She had threatened them with physical violence. The surprise had vanished.

Diana would talk about Themyscira and her mother and sisters. Her experiences in 'man's world' were another popular topic, one that seemed to amuse the man that lay prone on the bed, even though he didn't reply.

John was another who used his time to do other things, but he would sometimes comment on a current mission. He would also talk about other planets he was taking care of. He never seemed to be particularly concerned and kept everything rather light.

Clark talked about life on the farm, told various stories about what it was like there. Some of the more creative ones made him laugh. There was almost always laughter when Clark and Wally were in the room, even though they found themselves laughing alone.

The fact that Bruce couldn't reply even if he wanted to due to the constant shakes and the listless thoughts didn't faze them much. They refused to let it. It wasn't long before they finally managed to fix the last of the physical blemishes and the period of withdrawal faded. The team entered the room once to see Batman without his mask, staring at the mirror that had been left for him after the doctor's left.

He was in serious need of a haircut and a shower, his eyes were still haunted and bleak and glimmering with suppressed memories, but he was whole. The handsome face that had captured women and men alike was back. There were no more blemishes, not even a scar.

The realization of that was one of the first things that surprised them. The second was the way he looked up at them; staring at the people he considered his family he gave a brief smirk. It was as close to a smile as he would ever get and the fact warmed their hearts. Not that some would ever tell him that…

"So…do you want to talk about it?"

In hindsight, they should have known the question would have set him off so badly. Yet they would have never expected the reaction. It was violent, sudden, and left them so surprised they backed up. One moment they were looking at a clean and tidy hospital ward that contained one occupant sitting on a bed, and the next various objects were hovering into the air and sent launching straight at them. On reflex they dodged, jumping through the door that was slammed shut behind them. They turned and stared through the window as the objects fell to the ground, Bruce grasped his head in his hands, and yelled out, "NO!" It was as much of an answer as it was a reaction to his loss of control.

It was the first taste they got of the new powers in his possession as well as the realization that he wasn't in complete control of them.

They consistently tried to get him to talk, one at a time, or in a group, always doing their level best to seem open and welcoming. He never seemed to buy it. Not even Alfred could get him to talk about it and they could see how much it was hurting him. It lasted a whole week, and that was when Diana finally exploded. She yelled at him for close to half an hour, only stopping when Bruce had backed himself against the headboard as far as he could go. They stared at each other, not blinking, not even seeming to breathe, and finally Diana stormed out with a huff.

The next day they came back they found him gone. The worry they felt was exponential as they hurriedly ran, flew, or phased through the Watchtower in search for him. It was J'onn that finally did, psychically calling to them to bring them to the training room. They honestly felt like they should have known.

Bruce was stationed there, doing his level best to get himself killed, or that was how they saw it. Hospitalization for close to a few weeks only to jump right into exercise was never a good idea. He was shirtless and sweaty and his muscles trembled as he forced himself to do another push up, reminding them immediately of what he had recently been through. He did another, and another, shaking and trembling and finally collapsing to the ground to lie in a puddle of sweat, panting and coughing.

Clark was the one to enter the room first, grabbing a water bottle and a towel and giving them to him, sitting down a fair distance away from him. He watched as Bruce slowly heaved himself upright, accepting both objects and using them as well as he was able with still trembling hands. His legs crossed and he looked at the ground focusing on the bottle that he rolled between them quietly.

"What do you want me to talk about?"

…

"_It's finally time. He's hit the point where it won't matter what I dose him with, the thought of using it on me unless I near the sisters will never cross his mind. He no longer thinks of himself and his needs or wants, all that matters are the sisters. He apparently already struggled with such a thing before, I honestly wonder if he will need reminders to eat to keep him going…he does still need to, after all. The realization that the glass could be moved on those helmets at first truly worried me._

"_Batman is as much of an enigma as ever, and I truly do not find it surprising that Gotham attracts all the psychotics. When they have someone like him to contest with all his many layers and facets, I can't find myself surprised that they love it. Most of them won't leave Gotham either. I wonder if he blames himself for them? I wonder what it would be like if he ever managed to escape…would he blame himself for not being there for Gotham? Even if he was simply trapped away without any hope of escape? This requires deeper thought, I believe._

"_I had considered giving him the single goal of protecting a single child, bonding her to him, and him to her, but the possibility that he could injure another of the children was too great to ignore. They need protection anyway. He needs to be able to move from them freely. I am uncertain what would be the risks of that anyway… There are few Big Daddies still living, which is one of the reasons I created my own. Although, he's not truly mine anymore, is he? He's theirs. He belongs to _them_, not the other way around, and much like the dolls that they carry, he can easily become expendable."_

The tape ended then, Superman not reaching for another, his head bowed and fingers interlaced. "This is the last one. The others are damaged. I'm uncertain if this is a loss or not."

"I just hope they don't give any clues on how to reverse the process." John sighed at the thought, rubbing his temples. The entirety of the group around the table looked at each other in silence, the idea worming its way into their brain without mercy.

"The thought had occurred to me, but I doubt it. He was too caught up in Rapture to think about the possible consequences and where he might lead." Superman finally dismissed the possibility and they found themselves relaxing.

"So…what do we do for him now?"

"Whatever we can and…hope for the best. He's Batman as well as Bruce Wayne after all, and I am certain of this much. Neither of them ever give up." For the first time in a long while, they found hope. They quietly promised that they wouldn't let the hope go.

….

Bruce spoke for the better part of an hour, eyes lowered and head bowed, his hands still rolling the water bottle between them. They listened with heavy hearts as he described the torture he had went through, from the unimaginable agony of having an instrument forced down his throat to the shocks he would receive should he not follow the sisters wherever they went. He spoke of what it was like at the bottom of the sea in a place that was beauty and decay all in one leaking package.

They listened and kept silent, realizing that if he were to stop he wouldn't be able to continue. When he raised his hand up and stared at it in quiet concentration they were beyond surprised when it finally froze over, from elbow to finger tips. He pointed it at the wall and froze it solid as the ice around his hand broke and lightning raced up it, dancing between his fingers and along his palm. Telekinesis, the ability to call up random spheres of different colors that seemed to ooze from his very skin and he listed as hacking, enrage, and hypnotize Big Daddies. The last one was said with a touch of irony coloring his voice. They found themselves jerking back as his skin boiled up and wasps crawled from one boil to another, in and out in a sickening dance that seemed to captivate him.

"I have powers beyond what I ever imagined and what I ever wanted. I don't know what to do with them now that I have them and in some ways I find myself scared of them. I don't trust them, even though it's my own body that calls them up, my own mind that controls them. I was injected again and again by things that tore through my DNA and rewired my very core. It hurt every time, temporary disorientation, blackouts. The first time it happened I actually vomited. The pain was so intense that I found myself unable to focus and collapsed, the strain on my throat made me cough until I thought I would be unable to breathe. I thought I would die there on the floor because I couldn't take the pain of something that was changing me into something I had never wanted.

"He was ecstatic. He laughed, he teased, and he would follow my every move and just stare at me. I'd call his behavior obsessive, however the Joker is obsessed with me. I know precisely how that feels, and I believe this was closer to infatuation. All I know is he made me feel dirty. I couldn't think past the little sisters and their safety, yet I knew that I wanted to stay away from him, to hide if I could. He always found me. He had two plasmids that I know of, one was a defensive one, created a decoy of himself, and the other was a hypnotize plasmid. He used that on me. Several times. Made me…" Bruce swallowed, fingers tightening on the empty water bottle and finally growled, launching himself upright and tossing the bottle to the far wall, sending it bouncing off.

"I can't stand it! I can still hear them, hear him, they won't leave me alone! Why won't they leave me alone? What did I do?" His hands went to his head, the violence of his movements shocking, J'onn immediately standing up to restrain him. Bruce practically sobbed, the violence translated into other things. Wally felt like crying, knew he was going to be sick. They stared at him, standing up, reaching out to touch and reassure. It was one of the only times they had been able to do so with someone who would rather be alone. They found it somewhere between terrifying and amazing.

"You didn't do a thing, it is fine, it is alright, and you are safe. You have friends, family. We care about you, Bruce, please. You will be fine." The soft words in the calm voice of Alfred Pennyworth seemed to relax him and he finally slumped to the ground on his knees, bowing over them, his fists pressed to his temples. "You will be fine, you will get through this, you will recover. You have always done so alone, and I understand your frustration at finding that you need help, but please, let us help you."

"What happened to the children?" Bruce finally asked, remaining still where he had dropped.

"We were unable to find them. We have a feeling that if we were to find them…" Superman admitted quietly, breaking off at the thought of what had been done to the children as well.

"I need to go down there again." Bruce looked up at them, eyes sparking with determination and decisiveness.

"What?" John's vocal protest was not the only one.

"You can't!"

"Bruce, please, think about this, if you're reacting like this now…"

"No, I must, you don't understand. I have the power to remove the slug without harming them, I can save them. I think I need to save them. They have families that are waiting for them desperately. Please, let me find them, I think it would help. I need to get rid of their voices. I think it's possible that the link is partially telepathic. I was able to feel when they were hurt or scared…"

The revelation made them look at each other and finally back to the broken man before them. A man who had gone through hell and was trying to claw his way back.

"Will you need the suit to attract them?"

"I don't smell right anymore."

The comment made them laugh, recognizing the statement as what it was, the necessity of laughter to the broken spirit before them.

"It's a damn good thing, too. I mean yeesh, what was that stench? Essence of rotten fish?"

"It's possible."

"Well it's a good thing you don't still stink like that. It was awful." Wally waved a hand in front of his nose, smiling wider than he had in ages.

"Thank you, Wally, I needed that."

The comment brought them back full circle and they looked at him quietly.

"Are you sure this is what you need to do?"

"Positive."

"Alright. Come on, we'll help you suit up. We would say wait until you're stronger, but you seem hell-bent on killing yourself as it is, a little walk at the bottom of the sea shouldn't be anything."

"Let me do it alone. Gather their parents. Please. I can do this."

"We believe you. You're Batman. You always do what's right and what needs to be done. We're willing to help you whenever you need it, and to listen if it comes down to it. Alright?" Clark's face was open and honest and Bruce stared at him, and then at them and finally began to laugh. They would have been worried at the sound if Alfred had not already assured them that his normal laugh sounded like something Satan and bequeathed him. It was deep, dark, and yet seemed completely genuine.

"I get it. I'm wanted and cared for. I never doubted it."

"Really?"

"It's hard to when you have seven idiots constantly harping about it." The comment was spoken with a smirk and a look in his eyes that spoke of true teasing. They accepted it as it was intended. They finally helped him get the suit on as they hovered over the area in the Javelin-7. A straight drop through the water would lead him to Rapture. They handed him the helmet carefully at last and he hesitated for a moment before he moved to put it on.

"You know…I have one request to make of you." Clark finally spoke quietly.

"Yes? What is it?" He froze with it over his mask, reinforced bat ears ready for the pressure.

"Next time…don't let near insanity and having your DNA written over to actually talk to us. I promise, we won't tell another soul about it, Bruce. You can trust us."

"Get their parents; Aquaman is ready to meet me?"

"Yes, with the means to get them back to the surface."

"Alright." With that final word the helmet was lowered and sealed, the pressure checked, and the oxygen tanks double checked. He gave them a final salute and stepped off the platform, sinking into the waiting water below.


	4. Really

Bruce let himself sink to the bottom of the ocean, feeling as the suit adjusted to the pressure around him, feeling his ears pop. He focused on the murky darkness before flicking the light inside his suit on, a warm yellow glow piercing the black for a short distance in any direction. There was a light he was approaching, slowly but surely, the weight of the suit enough to sink him but not to smash his bones when he landed. He hated the heaviness of his limbs, hated the fact that he was sinking to a pit he had never wanted to return to.

But as much as he hated it, he couldn't deny that Rapture was a beautiful city, at least from above. The gleam of the lights shining from a sprawling structure imbedded into the seafloor dazzled him, shining off the lens in the helmet. He watched as it grew, a true feat of human ingenuity, winding towers and encased pathways all he could see from where he was. He knew, however, that when he would get closer he would notice cracks in those pathways, notice the way some of those buildings were collapsing into themselves. Rapture was dying.

A moment later a man appeared that he was half expecting and half dreading to see.

Arthur, otherwise known as Aquaman swam up towards him, examining him closely. "Are you certain you are ready for this?" While Aquaman could somehow talk underwater, the suit didn't allow for such things. Batman could only nod, accepting the added guidance of the reef sharks that Aquaman made him hold onto. Before he knew it, before he was fully ready, he was standing before the entrance to Rapture. They walked into the opening that would keep water from entering Rapture, one of the few that worked. One that he remembered fixing. They shut the door behind him and the water drained around them as Arthur pulled the lever, the suit turning that much heavier, muscles aching under the strain.

The only reason he didn't puke his guts up at being back here was that he had chosen it, he had chosen the claustrophobic feel of the Big Daddy suit. He needed to find those children. He needed to save them.

"Where have you looked?" His voice is steady, a fact he was most grateful for, even with the hollow tinny sound the helmet provided.

"All over, my people are combing the depths of Rapture as we speak. We have transport to get them to the surface if and when we find them." Arthur seemed willing to give him all the time he needed to enter into Rapture truly, understanding and granting more sympathy than Bruce thought he had in him.

"Have you encountered any of the Splicers?"

"Is that what those things are called? Yes." The way he brandished his hook made Batman immediately aware of what they had been doing to those they found. "What are they?"

"Humans, or what's left of them…" Batman took a breath, his focus on the door before him, finally stepping forward. He needed to do this; he couldn't hesitate, not when there were children at stake. He had set out to save them at the beginning. He refused to fail now. He reached out, hand gripping the lock that kept him from the city and turned it, shoving the door open. Bruce took his first step into a city he had wanted to avoid and found himself struck once again by the beauty and decay that surrounded him. It had been worse when he first entered Rapture, the stink of mold and rot heavy in the air. He had helped to clean it and repair it, replacing what they could of the carpeting and other decorations.

Light fixtures were imbedded into the walls, the decorated and obviously expensive carpets moldy and damp, various old fashioned decorations scattered down the hall.

"How do we find the Little Sisters?"

"First you must find the right place." Bruce led the way, Aquaman following at a safe distance; if Bruce did find the Little Sisters, there was no telling how they would react to the Atlantian. What Arthur didn't know was the fact that Bruce was using the bond he had with them, a link that screamed to him from the depths of his cells. His fingers tightened around the drill that encased his right hand, hefting it slightly. He didn't trust Rapture.

He led him passed various dead and wilting plants, ignoring the broken glass that crunched underfoot due to the vases that had been thrown to the ground. Rapture was a crumbling wreck. But there were traces of its old glory to be found in some of the bigger atriums that still held, beautifully crafted staircases leading to the floor, the windows to the water still intact. The sound of a whale made Bruce freeze until Arthur touched his arm.

"That one was just a whale."

"Good, I don't think I could compete with another Big Daddy."

"What do you mean?"

"They will be guarding the Little Sisters. They will fight to the death and J'onn does not think the others will be able to be cured. There was too much damage done. If I could be corrupted like that in a few weeks, what would they look like after a few dozen years? Some of them are even grafted to the suits."

"That's appalling."

"That's Rapture."

They continued moving, Bruce having to actively turn his entire torso to look to the side. The single glass porthole was not easy to see out of. He was beginning to feel claustrophobic, but he would never show it. He had children to save.

Bruce finally caught sight of what he was looking for; motioning to Aquaman to stay back he walked forward to a hole in the wall encased in metal. Taking a breath he let the drill fall and pounded on the metal three times, a hollow clanging sound echoing down the pipe. He waited then, quiet and still. He couldn't call to them anymore. He could only hope that the sound would be enough. Arthur had raised an eyebrow at the simple realization that this was all that was necessary. A moment later and something stirred in the blackness.

They held their breath, Aquaman hurriedly backing up further, he shared no love towards surface dwellers, but their children were another thing entirely. They had no means of defense, his own child thought to with pain. Bruce backed away slightly as a pair of glowing yellow eyes focused on him, a child's cry of, "Mr. Bubbles!" making him flinch slightly. Arthur was not the Flash, however, and didn't even react beyond another raised brow. He hadn't been expecting _that_ to be a nickname for the large creatures.

The little girl had messy brown hair and grubby skin, the shredded remains of tennis shoes faced them for a moment as she turned around and climbed down. The jean skirt she was in was tattered, her white top stained with blood and other fluids, and in her hand was something that made Arthur's stomach clench. It looked a bit like a syringe with a long vicious-looking needle that was attached to what reminded him of a bottle. She had thrown a teddy bear out with her as well, picking it up she gripped it tightly, smiling up at the 'Big Daddy' that stood in front of her and reaching out, taking his hand happily. "Mr. Bubbles, you're back! I'm so glad, I missed you. Can we go find an Angel now? I'm so very hungry!"

Arthur had the sudden realization of precisely what she was hungry for and where it would come from, the syringe in her hand focused on. Bruce crouched down to her level slowly, the Little Sister looking up at him with a wide smile, only to jolt when he grabbed her around her waist gently. She was immediately afraid, her eyes glistening with tears as a warm glow crept up his right arm, she protested loudly, pushing against the arm that went to her forehead, prying at the arm that was wrapped around her waist. Arthur took a step forward in fear, his immediate thought that Batman was not as whole as they had thought. A moment later and that hand pressed up against the girl's forehead, brushing back her hair from it, the light spreading through to her. Aquaman looked away as the glow grew too bright for him to stand, and when he turned back she was a normal little girl again. A viscous looking red slug was on the ground before her and she wiped her mouth carefully.

Her wide blue eyes focused on the man before him, "Thank you…thank you, Mr. Bubbles… I didn't think you were still alive."

"I am."

The little girl gasped at the voice that came from the suit, her eyes lighting up as she hugged him tightly. "Mr. Bubbles, you can talk?"

"Yes, they helped me, the man behind me is Aquaman, he's going to take you to the surface. You can trust him." Batman gently pried her away, not letting Aquaman see the small squeeze he gave her in return. She looked at Aquaman with uncertainty, her eyes wide and fearful; the mental conditioning would not let her see him as anything other than a threat. She had been trained to see anything that tried to remove her from her 'Daddy' as a villain.

"Won't…won't you come with me?" Her voice was quiet, cracking, looking up at him with wide eyes.

"No, I'm remaining down here, I need to save the other children and bring them back to the surface."

"…The surface?" There was a question ringing from her words, a question that made Bruce's heart clench and made Aquaman stiffen.

"Yes, it's where you belong. Trust me, please, go with Aquaman. He'll take you home."

"No, I will help you, Mr. Bubbles." The name that fell of his tongue was more formal than it should be, Bruce looking up at the Atlantian with wide eyes that he would never see. "I made a promise to help make sure the other children were safe. I intend to see it through."

Bruce looked at him, the glare heavy even through the mask, yet he merely glared right back, pressing a button that alerted others to their position. When they came Bruce carefully handed the girl over, when a strong, kind-faced Atlantian offered to carry her. He took the syringe from unresisting fingers and replaced it with the bear that she had dropped. "What's your name?"

"Emily, will you come too? Please?" Even wrapped in a pair of strong and comforting arms she stared at the helmet covered head with hope in her eyes, tear trails down her cheeks the only clean part of her skin.

Batman paused narrowing his eyes slightly. Typically when such a situation occurred he had something to give the child that would let them know he would come back for them. A marble used to distract those he fought or something similar. He had nothing, just his word. "Yes. I will come, but not yet. I need to save the others."

Her lower lip quivered, tears rolling down her face but she nodded resolutely. She couldn't have been older than six. They left then, to the ship that would take her to the surface. Arthur watched in something bordering disgust as the syringe was jabbed into the slug, a green fluid oozing from it. "What is that?"

"Adam."

"What do you do with it?"

"You'll see."

He left it at that, hooking the syringe to his belt as he kept walking, heading to another part of Rapture, the king of Atlantis right behind him. The work was silent and awful, many children reacting the same as Emily. A few of them Bruce was forced to take to the 'Angels'. They had remained in the 'hidey-holes' of Rapture, crawling around in the duct work, unable to feed for over a week. They were starving, the slug in their bellies complaining in a way that led to horrible pain. With those he always gathered them up, made them hold on tight and ran.

Arthur reflected that the sight of a Big Daddy running was terrifying, some connection they had to the children feeding them the strength and power to nearly fly down the hallways. They made the ground shake and the possibility of facing something like that when it was enraged was a threat he honestly did not want to face. He was thankful that there were so few of them left.

The first time they found an 'Angel' Bruce signaled for the child to wait and she clung to his leg, sobbing with the knowledge that it was _right there _and she couldn't go to it yet. Aquaman was surprised when Bruce indicated for him to call for bring more troops. They came however, men who circled the Little Sister and her protector, her wide yellow eyes terrified at the sight of them. Yet as Bruce gestured for her to work they understood why he had asked for more of them. The scratching sound of the sickle tools of what Bruce identified as Spider Splicers sounded from all sides, and suddenly they were pouring in, their target the young child with her Adam.

The Atlantians fought like the child was one of their own, Bruce gripping the handle for the drill, the powerful motor making it spin dangerously and the yellow light that shone from the glass turned red. They attacked viciously, yet still some were able to get through the circle, even as Bruce used the newly found power of the plasmids to zap some and send bees after others. The bees ignored the Atlantians, the reason the lack of threat presented to the owner of them. The entire time they attacked they were talking.

"_Who are you?"_

"_Get out of my head! You're keeping me from getting better!"_

"_I'll show you, I'm better!"_

"_You're just a dream! Leave me alone!"_

"_You're the one getting in my head!"_

"_You're sick in the head! You're not real!"_

"_It's just part of the therapy, you're part of the therapy! If I kill you I'll be better…"_

"_I can't sleep, I can't sleep. Make it go away!"_

"_You ruined me!"_

"_It hurts, it hurts, it's supposed to help!"_

The insane babbling that fell from twisted misshapen lips never stopped, even as limbs were hacked and bodies were crushed, more of them coming as they tried to get to the girl, Bruce using the drill to stop whatever got through the circle of protection. The girl drank what she had collected immediately, the slug feasting on whatever it could get. Just like that the Splicers stopped coming. The Atlantians were bloodied, breathing hard, yet completely professional, walking around and stabbing into whatever Splicer lay on the ground, refusing to have them surprise them. Bruce repeated the process of saving the Little Sister; the slug stabbed once again, another syringe hung from his belt.

He had twenty of them. There were ten Little Sisters left. Ten more and he could leave this hellhole and never come back. He was planning on having Arthur destroy it. Rapture was more trouble than he felt it was worth. "Is everyone alright?"

"Yes, we are fine. Bit of a workout, but nothing too terrible. Where do you think the others are?"

"Could be a lot of places. But I need to find one thing in particular. Have you seen a machine, lots of pink, has two model Little Sisters standing on either side of it?" Batman asked quietly. They looked at each other and finally smiled.

"Broken or whole?"

"Whole, please, that's why I asked."

"Alright, follow me, I'll show you. Not quite certain what it is for, but I suppose I'll find out, yes?" The Atlantian that had spoken had brown hair and bright blue eyes, his mouth almost forced into a tight smile. Batman followed.

When they arrived Bruce approached it, Arthur surprised as it began speaking with a garbled child's voice. "My daddy... Smarter than Einstein Stronger than Hercules! And lights a fire with a snap of his fingers! Are you as good as my daddy? Not if you don't visit the gatherer's garden you aren't! Smart Daddies get spliced at the garden!"

"What does it mean by spliced? Does that mean that you turn into those things?"

"Not precisely. It does mean that I probably shouldn't do it, I was only recently cured, however… I was given a limit on what I could do. I have three things in particular I want. Give me a moment." He inserted the syringes, a total amount of the Adam he had earned coming up. He scrolled through a selection choosing a few and a moment later three syringes rolled into the slot. They watched in wariness as he injected all three into a tube that led directly to a vein. A moment later and he snapped his fingers, fire flashing into being before sparking out into an ice crystal.

"I would let you try one of these, but we've found a marked difference in Atlantian physiology to our own. I don't know what it would do to you."

"Understandable. What do we do now?"

"What else? Find the other Sisters."

The process was very much find, rinse, repeat, yet at times they were forced to deal with some of the machines that still worked. Scrapped together machines made of whatever could be found at the bottom of the sea. They found more of them, Batman taking a more active role in shoving whatever Splicer they could find back. A particularly large burly one gave them more trouble than he was worth. Batman took to fighting him directly, using the drill and the strange plasmids he had, not answering to the various taunts the man made.

He was loud, more of a beast than a man, reminding him more of a tan Solomon Grundy than he liked to admit, if he spoke in more than just grunts… In fact as they continued back and forth the taunts began getting more vicious and, although they doubted the thing knew it, more hysterical. They traded blows back and forth on a ridiculous level, the suit protecting him from most damage, the others skin doing it's level best to protect him.

Chairs and debris were flung back and forth, crashing and smashing, causing more damage than they were worth. He drove his knee into Batman's gut, the suit not quite able to cushion the blow all that well, sending him flying back into the wall. A fist was brought for his head which he dodged hurriedly, shoving the man's face into the wall. The floor shook and the pipes finally began leaking water, unable to handle the pressure. It was the water that turned the tide in the fight. Flames had been sent, ice had managed to pierce him, but it wasn't until he stepped into a puddle of water that he was immediately zapped. The electricity ran through the man's system, sparking and shocking him as he spasmed horribly. Bruce swung the drill at the thing's head, and the fight was finally over, the Big Daddy suit bent as he breathed heavily, looking around at the destruction caused.

"Did you kill him?"

"No…" It was true, the Brute was still breathing, yet as an electrically charged spear stabbed through him, the threat he may have posed was gone. The Atlantians had no such problems with killing. They still understood Batman's position.

"'I'd look like a poof in that suit, but you wear it.'" The repetition of one of the main statements the thing had made had them laugh. "Good lord, was that man serious?"

"That's not the worst of it, what did he say about wrestling?"

"'Man had me going in for wrestling before the city started pissing itself, but I don't go in for all that touching and sweating. I'm a boxing man'." The deepness to Batman's voice coupled with the calm way he said it made them howl.

"Oh lord, I swear, if nothing else, I'm happy I came here, if only to hear that. That was brilliant."

They continued on, deeper into Rapture, shocked at the contrast between the truly beautiful parts of it, and all the corpses scattered across the ground. Batman collected various blue syringes when he saw them. "Are you quite certain you should be injecting yourself again, you know what it did to you the first time." Arthur looked at him closely as he walked next to him, scrutinizing.

"It's the Adam that gets you. I was given a limit of three more. This is Eve, it powers the plasmids. No Eve, no powers."

"So it's not permanent?" The question was quietly surprised.

"No. I'm honestly rather glad it isn't."

"You would be." Aquaman smirked slightly. "How many Little Sisters left?" Bruce checked his belt quietly, empty and full syringes numbered off.

"One." His voice was full of relief, a fact which was ignored. Dignity was something that was dear to both of them.

"Just the one?"

"Yes. Thirty girls, ages four to eight."

"Alright then, let's find her."

They combed Rapture from top to bottom, finding the little places, hoping to call her out with the scent of a Big Daddy that Batman still carried on him. He could no longer call for them vocally and as more of the Little Sisters were cured, the weaker his connection to them grew. He could just barely feel her, a fragile tugging at his subconscious, trying to lead him to her. When they found her they were unprepared. Another Big Daddy stood before her, crouching down to her level, her voice sobbing in pain as she clutched at legs that were twisted grotesquely.

They had been broken and they had healed wrong. Horribly wrong. Bruce realized what had happened as his eyes focused to a higher level and the broken railing. The Big Daddy was desperately trying to comfort her, allowing her to cling to whatever part of him she could reach, tears falling down her face.

Arthur had a moment to marvel at the monster before him comforting a small child, a monster whose suit had many portholes that glowed with a baleful yellow light. It was bigger than the type of Big Daddy that stood next to him, Bruce tensing at the sight.

"What is it?"

"A Bouncer. That's the one whose body was surgically grafted into the suit."

"What do we do?"

"We have to kill it."

"What?" Arthur focused on the Big Daddy, listening to the soft sounds it was making with horribly damaged vocal chords, large fingers carefully smoothing over tangled blond hair. He looked very much like a father trying to comfort his child and the sight of it made the name make sense. It also made the thought of killing it abhorrent.

"They will fight for the Little Sisters to the death. Should we bring him up to the surface he will never be the same. He will never be able to remove the suit. It would almost be kinder to kill him. Stay back, Arthur. Please. This will be vicious, grab the Little Sister and get her to safety as soon as he is occupied."

Arthur locked eyes on the sight one last time, watching as the Big Daddy gently tried to lift her up and the girl managed to giggle through her pain at the touch. A moment later and Bruce attacked, chucking a large piece of debris at his head, catching his attention. The Bouncer focused on him, and all the portholes glowed red. Next moment it had attacked, the Little Sister cheering him on loudly.

As it attacked, one thing was made abundantly clear. The Bouncer was _fast_. The drill in his hand was swung quickly and accurately, Bruce forced to parry with his own, barely fast enough. They attacked viciously, backing each other into walls, the drill used to its full effect. It was only as Bruce's head was forced into the floor that Arthur realized he might actually be losing. As he thought of it, it made sense. Batman did not kill. Whatever he may have done before did not matter, now that he was in full possession of himself…

Arthur did the only thing he could do, he grabbed the girl. The immediate scream drew the Bouncer's attention before he could blink, next moment it charged, Arthur preparing himself for the blow that was to come, only for the Bouncer to freeze completely solid. A moment later and the drill was smashed through it as it was superheated, shattering completely. The girl screamed and sobbed, clawing at Arthur, trying to escape, her focus on what had been her protector.

Batman stood over the remains of the Big Daddy feeling beyond dreadful, his stomach roiling and his fingers clenching and unclenching. It didn't help that he knew what he would have to do to the girl in order to fix her legs. The slug promoted nearly automatic healing. In order to make sure her legs would continue to work, they would have to be broken multiple times. The Little Sisters could still feel pain.

What followed was one of the worst experiences of his life, breaking and re-breaking the small child's legs, her green eyes filled with tears even as he explained. The conditioning made her always see the Big Daddies as protectors, even when they hurt her. It didn't help that even through her tears she would state that she trusted him, loved him, called him 'daddy'. This entire situation made him sick. Finally, finally her legs were fixed, finally he could allow her to latch onto him and hug him, cheering that he had fixed her. That he had saved her.

It was one of the only times Batman had been tempted to vomit when on duty. She climbed up onto his shoulder, giggling happily. "My Daddy is the greatest!" The term coupled with the statement made him wish he was Bruce Wayne, if only for a moment, so he could empty the contents of his stomach.


	5. Difficult

Bruce carried the little girl out of Rapture on the shoulder she sat on, the added weight adding to the strain of what the suit already provided. They entered the transport where all the children gathered around him. They laughed and hugged him, some on his legs, others hanging from his arms. There were little girls _everywhere_. Bruce had never raised little girls; he didn't know what to do with them. On one hand they seemed to like being swung back and forth, on the other hand they seemed fragile. One of them sobbed when another girl pulled on her hair, Bruce couldn't tell if it was because she was actually hurt, or because he picked her up when she did cry.

It was disquieting. He could only hope that they would return to their parents when they returned to the surface, that sun and fresh air would let them remember. That the sight of them waiting with what may be tears streaming down their faces and open arms would wake those memories. He doubted it. He had never been much for hope or optimism.

He had been fighting a losing battle against Gotham for too long.

The Atlantians ignored the way the children clustered around him, focusing more on piloting them back to one of the more remote stretches along Gotham's shoreline. They didn't tease. Arthur was watching him closely; Bruce was certain he knew why. The thought that the man expected for him to break down right here and now when he had a _mission_ to complete still made him stiffen. He was not weak. He would not react.

Finally, finally the transport broke through the water, heading towards the small crowd of people, mothers and fathers hugging each other, flashes of bright color indicators of where his team was. Gordon was closest to the water, his team of cops creating a wide perimeter around the family. It didn't surprise him that there would be reporters even at this late hour and for something so personal. He hated the blood-sucking vultures. He would have to do something about them before anything else.

He looked to Arthur, nodding out at the reporters standing there, the Atlantian blinked, and smiled. It was not a particularly pleasant smile; coupled by the blood that flecked him it was positively terrifying. His people caught the look, their own smiles growing. They left the transport first, battle-weary warriors that at first caused the parents to nearly break down in tears, some of the wives sobbing. They were afraid of what the sight of them would mean, the weapons they held bloody and vicious looking. Arthur walked up to the ring of cops keeping the reporters back, Gordon walking next to him and questioning him quietly.

What followed was a conversation that led to the reporters practically running back to their cars, Gotham, and safety. Arthur returned to the parents and talked to them quietly, the families calming down hesitantly.

"Do you remember those people?"

His only answer for a moment was silence, the children crowded around the windows of the transport as they looked at the people standing there.

"Should we? They don't…look familiar."

The reply made bile rise in this throat. They had gotten so close…

"You can come out!" Arthur yelled to them, the children clustering around the Big Daddy as he slowly made his way to the door, careful not to step on them. The League waited behind the parents, the officers leaning forward, Harvey Bullock moving up to stand with the Commissioner. The door was unlatched and swung outward, the children still pressing up to him, thirty little girls weaving around his legs. Their parents started forward, only to still. Gordon and Bullock's eyes widened, the other cops backed away.

"It's a long story, Commissioner." Batman's voice coming out of the thing before them caused immediate alarm, followed by shock. The sight of the little girls clinging to him made it even more surreal. "The original rescue attempt didn't go as planned."

The parents recognized the voice, if only for the reactions of the police, of the talk of rescue. Their fear faded and they walked forward hurriedly, their only focus the children that huddled together around him. A woman in what appeared to be her later twenties ran forward first, mouse brown hair and her upturned nose the twin of her daughters. The girl screamed as the woman touched her shoulder, trying to bring her close, making her mother jolt back in shock. The girl ran back to the giant stationed there and climbed up his arm before he could react.

Bruce regarded the way the woman's blue eyes filled with tears, looking up at him with eyes that begged for him to explain, to prove that he was the hero everyone had always called him. He didn't know how he would be able to do that. "What…what happened?"

"She doesn't remember you."

"…What?"

"How?"

"What do you mean?"

"How is that possible?"

"Who did it?"

The questions poured forth one after another, drowning him and any reply he wished to give. He didn't attempt to quiet them, unable to think of how. It wasn't until Arthur bellowed for them to be quiet that they stopped.

"Please, give him some time. What happened to your children was…terrible, but also complicated. He needs a moment to decide where to begin and how," Superman beseeched them quietly. He always had been better with people.

They waited, silent, hoping for some clue, some way to proceed. "It starts with a man named Xavier Blake. He does not appear in my records as anyone with a previous criminal record, I do not know if that is the same with you…"

Gordon paused, looking at Harvey who shook his head, before considering a bit more, and finally shaking his own.

"Then this would have been his first offense. I don't know how he came to discover it, but Blake found Rapture. A city at the bottom of the ocean off the coast of Iceland. A city built by humans in a post-World War II environment. Long story short, the people there discovered something. They found a slug that had an excretion that they labelled 'ADAM', an excretion that could be used to give someone abilities akin to meta-humans."

"But what does that have to do with our children?" The man who had spoken was barely containing his anger, a state that Batman did not blame him for. He also had no other way to explain precisely why the man had done what he did. In answer, Bruce unhooked one of the full syringes from his belt and tossed it to him. The parents stared at it quietly, unblinkingly, looking at their children and seeing the filthy state of them, as well as what they were filthy with. They didn't react, yet, a desperate hope making them stare at the man before them in the giant divers' suit and plead that what they thought wasn't the truth.

"They discovered that when implanted inside a host, the output of ADAM more than tripled. The hosts were dubbed 'Little Sisters'. They were mentally conditioned into seeing the corpses of those already filled with ADAM as 'Angels'. You can probably tell what precisely they were to do with these Angels when they found them."

They reacted. Vomiting, loud protests, sobbing, falling to their knees, hands reaching out to their daughter as they cried for their 'baby'. Babies that didn't come, that clung to one they saw as a knight in shining armor. The questions started again.

"Why didn't you stop him?"

"My baby…what's going to happen to my baby?"

"You're supposed to be the almighty Batman, how could you have failed?"

"You made a new costume and laid back while he was torturing them, didn't you?"

"You don't care about them, you never cared about us, you're just after it for the glory!"

The accusations when they came were violent, spitting, the rage of grief filled parents trying to understand. When the others spoke they could barely be heard, the League's expressions more than enough proof for Gordon to let him know how desperately he had tried. Once again, Arthur broke them of it, but it was the Flash that surprised them the most.

"Stop it! Stop it! Don't you see what you're doing? It wasn't his fault! You think he wanted to get in that suit? Up until two days ago he couldn't even talk! His vocal chords were torn apart! You have no idea what you're talking about; stop accusing him like he had anything to do with it! He went into Rapture without having a single idea about what he was stepping into because he was worried about your kids! Don't blame him for what Blake did. The very first thing he did after being let out of the hospital was jump back into the suit he was forced into the first time and save your kids."

They stared at Flash, and then they stared at him, wide eyes, horrified eyes, eyes filled with questions. Questions that he wouldn't, couldn't answer. Only what was necessary, necessary was sufficient enough for this.

"I was taken off guard. While ADAM gives you powers, it also acts as a benign form of cancer. For a while. Eventually the stem-cells will take over the regular cells, causing mutations that the body and eventually the mind cannot handle. There were…people in Rapture that should have died long ago, yet somehow managed to survive in a state of agony. People that cried over weapons and called them their_ children_. People that do not hesitate to shoot anything that moves and drag them to someone who had promised their salvation and given the instruction should any intruders venture into Rapture." His voice was emotionless; the realization that what had caught Batman was one of his most admirable qualities occurring to his teammates, his need to help others, no matter what.

"He needed to give them a protector and decided he loved the irony of turning Batman himself into the last line of defense for thirty little girls." The lack of emotion was shifting, turning sneering and quietly bitter. "He loved the thought of making said protector into the traditional form that others in Rapture had taken. Nicknamed the 'Big Daddy.'" Their reactions were quiet, minor things, Bullock's splutter the loudest among them. "They were taught to associate my presence with safety, mental conditioning that was accelerated by ADAM making the process easier. This happened to them, something similar happened to me, only my duty was to protect and care for them."

"So that…that's why they cling to you?"

"Yes. I'm sorry."

"Can you…can you make them stop?"

"…I already removed the slug from their systems. I believe…that's the only thing I can do. But, I am willing to try something else. Please, back up, stand in a line, let me talk to them."

The parents did so, hands wringing together, lips nibbled on, fingers clenching and unclenching as he crouched down and began to talk. "Emily, do you know who those people are?" The girl looked over at them, before turning to him and shaking her head.

"Nope. Don't know 'em. Can we go play now?"

Bruce watched as two people in particular almost sobbed, the husband clutching his wife to himself as she went to take a step forward. "No, we can't, not yet. I need you to help me with something."

"Oh? You need my help? Okay! What do you need me to do?"

"Here," he picked her up gently, placing her on his shoulder, and pointed to the two of them, "look at them, look closely now. I need to remember who they are. Can you help me? Who are they? Do you know their names?"

Emily paused, blinking, clutching at the back of his helmet as she leaned as far forward as she could. Green eyes that she shared with her parents were narrowed in concentration. "Gee, I don't know, Mr. Bubbles. Is it really that important?"

Even the sound of that dreaded nickname falling from her lips did not make them break the silence.

"Yes, Emily, it is. It's very, very important. You see, they're looking for their little girl, but they can't find her anywhere."

"That's terrible!"

"Yes, it is." He was making it up as he went along, mind scrambling for ideas as he attempted to keep her attention on the mother and father standing there. "Her name is Emily."

"That's my name, too!"

"Yes it is, and she has brown hair and green eyes."

"You mean like mine?"

"Exactly like yours. They've been looking for weeks and weeks and don't know where to find her anywhere. Do you think you can find her?"

"Why do I have to do it, Mr. Bubbles?"

"Because no one else can. You're their only hope of ever getting their little girl back again. If you can't help us, they might never see their little girl again."

"That's sad…"

"It is, will you help?"

"Okay, I'll help!"

"Good, now hold still." He stood upright jerkily, walking forward to the couple standing there. The other parents waited patiently having listened as Arthur walked behind them and whispered that hers was the only name they knew.

"Now, I want you to look at this man, does he seem familiar to you at all?"

The one in question straightened himself up, his slightly pudgy frame dwarfed by the other, yet his green eyes blazed with courage.

Emily hesitated for a moment before sliding down, standing on his belt and grabbing him by his shoulder so she could lean forward and get a good look. She reached forward, putting a tiny hand into his brown hair and rubbing her fingers through it a few times before tilting his chin up a bit so she could stare into his eyes. His eyes blazed with hope, fingers already starting to reach up to grab her, when the hope was crushed with a single word. "Nope."

To Emily's surprise his eyes filled with tears. "Hey…why are you crying? Please…please don't cry…" As the dam broke in her husband the wife followed him over, the two of them breaking, clutching each other as they sobbed. "Don't…don't cry… Please…please…" To Bruce's horror he noticed her own eyes were welling up, even as she continued her quiet begging. It was then that she did something else, reaching out to the family with her free arm, leaning out to them as far as she could. "Please, don't cry, don't cry. I don't _like_ seeing you cry, mommy and daddy, it makes my chest hurt."

It was such a simple statement and yet the reaction was profound. She blinked, her eyes widening in realization, and finally jumped into their arms, the tears of gut-wrenching sorrow turning to joy, her cries of 'mommy' and 'daddy' echoing loudly. It was these cries that tipped the scale, something in the little girls crying out at the sound, something that made them run, jump to the parents that waited, sobbing and pleading.

They were wrapped in welcoming and warm arms, arms that didn't care that they were filthy and had been forced into doing despicable things, pulling them closer to hearts that loved them and bled for them. Bruce stepped back, only to be grasped by more hands than he could count, pulling him closer, wrapping him in a hug that he had not meant to share. Joyful parents and children thanked him and he found himself once again cursing the Big Daddy suit that did not allow for a quick getaway.

He didn't need their thanks, he never had.

But he couldn't deny that it felt…nice. The part of him that still longed for what he had considered his children was crushed. They never had been his. He had no right to think of them as such.

They released him, feeling him tense even through the suit he was in, backing away, laughing shakily, and clutching loved ones. He could have sworn he saw a few members of his team wiping away tears. They were led away by officers that would never speak of this moment to anyone except for each other. They respected the one behind them too much for that. Gordon walked forward finally, hands stuffed in the pockets of his trench coat. Bullock stayed behind, wiping at his eyes surreptitiously, glaring at his feet.

The League joined him, Superman clearing his throat quietly. "You need help getting it off?"

"Yes." The word was hissed out, his arms immediately held out to the sides so they could attack the suit with a vengeance. He was unprepared for their zeal. They practically attacked the suit, Superman removing the air tanks and the weight belt, Hawkgirl coming after and pounding her mace on them, the remains of the air inside hissing out. Flash unscrewed all the bolts as fast as he could, pelting them out to sea and smirking smugly as they skipped across the surface. J'onn and Diana worked on removing the gloves, sliding them off, revealing the typical black gloved fingers underneath. Together they lifted him from the weighted boots, Superman melting them both to molten slag with his heat vision. Batman grumbled a quiet, "I can get out of my own boots, thanks." They ignored him.

Arthur was the one that startled him the most, taking the bloody hook and slicing his way through the heavy material, the feeling almost cathartic as it fell away in shreds. They let him remove the helmet on his own, Superman taking it from him and chucking it as far out to sea as he could, which was pretty damn far. There Batman stood, bootless and sockless, his cape rolled up along his shoulders and his costume damp with sweat and grime from the inside of the suit. Dignity was a foreign concept. He straightened the mask slightly before yanking at the cape, the black material dry and warm as he hunched slightly, the black material enveloping him protectively. J'onn handed him his typical boots, which he dropped in front of him, stepping into them calmly. More warmth.

Flash took the ripped open and empty costume and zipped to the edge where he proceeded to spin as fast as he could before throwing it out to join the rest.

"It's good to have you back." Gordon's voice was firm, brown eyes focused and warm, Bruce merely nodded.

"Yeah…it is, really." Bullock's voice was a surprise, Batman examining him with something of a raised eyebrow. Harvey snorted, "Don't look at me like that, it's obvious, at least now that you're definitely one of the good guys. I'm…sorry."

Batman grumbled a quiet, "Unnecessary, you were doing your job." Before turning back to Gordon. "You want to know some of the details."

"…Yes. But first, I have to know, what happened to Xavier Blake?"

"He's dead."

"Did you kill him?" Gordon pressed.

"No."

"What? But…I thought…"

Batman smirked at Flash's surprise, shaking his head. "I didn't kill him. I take it he injected himself with something?"

"Yeah."

"What color was it?"

"It was…blue, kind of glowing?" John said, looking at the others for affirmation.

"Did it look like this?" Bruce had removed the satchel of EVE syringes from the outfit, they hadn't touched that.

"Yeah, that's it. What is it?" Diana asked.

"This is EVE. He went to inject himself with this, it basically powers the plasmids that allow for a regular human to have abilities. He grabbed the wrong syringe."

"Why would he have such a potent poison on him?" Superman asked.

"He liked to taunt me."

"…What do you mean?" John's voice held something like steadily building anger.

"There's a special kind of plasmid it gives you the ability to hypnotize a Big Daddy. Any of them. He was fond of using it on me and giving me the syringe, making me get as far as placing my thumb on the plunger before making me remove it. He especially enjoyed making me roll the sleeve back so I could find the vein a traditional way. He saw you, panicked, grabbed the wrong syringe by mistake."

"Serves the bastard right." Bullock's statement was met with surprise, but none of them commented, most of them agreed.

"What are you going to do now?"

Bruce paused, looking over his shoulder at the rising sun, gazing out over the ocean and finally turned back to them.

"I'm going home."

The statement brought joy to his heart, a rush of euphoria that made him dizzy. He could go home.

Gordon smiled at him, clapped him on the shoulder heavily and shook him once. "Good. See about getting a good 'night's rest, alright?"

"We'll see."

There was a quiet whirring in the air before Batman pulled his grapple out, shot it out, and retracted himself up to the jet that hovered patiently. A moment later and it soared out, heading towards home, where an old man was waiting up for him.

"If you'll excuse me, gentlemen, and ladies, my people are going to see to the full destruction of Rapture. No one else will be pulled into such a place again. It was nice to meet you, Commissioner, Mr. Bullock, Batman chooses his allies well." With that, Arthur waded out, diving into the sea as he was followed by his men, the transport ship following after them.

"You think he really will sleep?" Gordon asked them quietly.

Diana and Shayera laughed. "I honestly doubt it, Commissioner."

"So do I."


End file.
